


Control

by xstarxchaserx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Dom!Harry, Dom/sub, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Face-Fucking, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Professors, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, Past Infidelity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Rough Body Play, Slash, Sub!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xstarxchaserx/pseuds/xstarxchaserx
Summary: Maybe it was the fact that the bottle of Firewhiskey was now gone between the two of them or maybe it was the way Draco licked his lips again when he finished asking that, but Harry decided to take his chance.“What is it you really want to ask me, Draco?”“I- what?”Harry simply raised an eyebrow in response and watched with fascination as the color rose in Draco’s cheeks.“I… That is… I would…” Harry began to count down, waiting for the crack in Draco’s veneer to widen a bit, and… there. “God damn it, Potter. Must I ask? You know. You obviously know. The way you’ve been flirting all night… I know you’ve seen my reactions. Do you really prefer it when people beg? Can’t you just put me out of my misery?”“What I prefer, Draco, is when people ask for what they want.”In which the two newest professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry find something they never thought they could with the person they never thought they would.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I haven't written anything in the Harry Potter fandom for well over 8 years, yet here we are. 
> 
> This story will contain, not just graphic sexual content, but graphic kinky content. There is a lot of negotiation that happens. There is no dubious consent involved, everything is Risk Aware and Consensual Kink (RACK). I will do my best to include notes of different terminology that will come up in the beginning of each chapter. This story is finished as is (I'll be uploading the rest of it over the course of this week), but there are a few lingering plot bunnies that might lead to some future works in this same verse. 
> 
> Please, please read the tags. Kink is always a gray area for triggers, as I'm never sure what could potentially cause a negative reaction in someone, but I tried to tag everything in here. If you come across something that you think I should tag, please let me know and I will add it. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at xstarxchaserx. I look forward to your feedback! 
> 
> xoxo

How long had it been since he had last stepped foot inside the walls of this castle? How long had it been since he had last walked into the Great Hall, since he had marveled at the star-scapes spread out across the ceiling, since he had come _home?_

To think, he had almost rejected the job offer. What did it matter that his life was in shambles? What did it matter that he had lost all sense of direction? He was Harry- _fucking_ -Potter. He didn’t need any handouts. 

He had been so sure that that’s what McGonagall’s offer for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post had been- pity, a grab at his fame. It wouldn’t have been the first time, after all. He told her as much, too, and watched with an ever growing sense of shame as her face first paled, then reddened.

“Do you really think that I would jeopardize the education of the students of Hogwarts by choosing a professor out of _pity?_ You should be ashamed of yourself!”

He was. He most definitely was.

But- bless her- McGonagall let the offer stand, which was why he was walking into the Great Hall just then, preparing to take a seat at the Head Table for the first time. 

A shock of blond hair brought him up short. 

He had known, of course, that Draco Malfoy had been granted the position of Potion’s Master at Hogwarts. He had even fooled himself into thinking that he was used to the idea of having to share space, this space, with him. It had been a decade since the war, a decade since Harry had testified on behalf of Draco and Narcissa Malfoy in front of the entire Wizengamot, allowing them to be cleared of most charges and placed on probation instead of being given the Dementor’s Kiss as Lucius was…

And just like that, Harry no longer saw the enchanted ceiling, the house tables, the Headmistress engaged in conversation with the ever-present Professor Binns. No. Instead, he saw the rows of bodies, the sheets draped over lifeless forms, the people whose names he could still recite to this very day.

This, this, _this_ is why he should’ve said no.

“Shit,” he breathed out loud, feeling the panic clawing its way up his throat.

“Ah, Professor Potter!” McGonagall called to him across the hall.

‘Pull your shit together, Potter,’ he thought as he raised a hand he hoped wasn’t shaking.

He continued his trek to the front of the hall and greeted the faces, old and new, that he found there. Firenze, still with the Divination post now that Trelawney had retired, stood at one end of the long table while the hulking form of Hagrid took up the other end. Neville Longbottom, the rising Herbology master, was taking over temporarily for Professor Sprout, though there were rumors the position would become permanent. The only remaining seat was to the right of McGonagall, with her being the only buffer between him and Malfoy. 

“You had a good trip, then?” she asked once he had taken his seat.

“Oh, yes. I would have been here sooner, but I was caught up talking with Aberforth.”

“You’re just on time, so please don’t worry. The older students will be filtering in just a few minutes.”

And she was right. He watched the tables fill up with students, settling in and talking until the first years arrived. The sorting went much faster than Harry remembered from his own school days, and once it was completed, McGonagall introduced both he and Malfoy as professors and, with a clap of her hands, the platters filled with food and the feast began.

Harry was quickly wrapped up in a conversation with Madame Marx, the new flying instructor, on the differences between the Firebolt VII and the older models. It wasn’t until it was time for the Great Hall to be cleared out and Harry was helping to shepherd the Gryffindors up the stair that it happened. He glanced over his shoulder for just a moment, just long enough to lock eyes with Malfoy.

He barely made it back to his rooms before the shaking started.

He had no idea that, all the way down in the dungeons, a certain Potions Master was also leaning against the doors to his rooms taking deep heaving breaths and trying to wipe the images of dead bodies from behind his eyes.  
____________

The first week of term passed by in a blur. Harry found himself reminded of his 5th year, of Dumbledore’s Army, and the thrill that came with watching someone take a concept that he was teaching them and _get it_. He felt that way almost all the time now. He was sure some of the fun would fade once he had to spend hours grading papers, but for now, it felt fantastic.

He could almost, _almost_ , pretend that he could breathe normally while walking through certain parts of the castle. Almost.

He had even managed to speak to Malfoy, in the barest sense of the word: exchanging pleasantries, holding the door to the library open for him, commenting on the weather while overseeing the study hall…

It was getting ridiculous.

He felt like he had during 6th year, though without the threat of imminent death looming over him. When they shared space, Harry was aware of his every movement, of the way his his cloak billowed as he walked the rows of students, the surety of his movements… Malfoy was occupying his thoughts most the day, and it was becoming distracting.  
____________

_Deep, bloody red sheets. Long, pale stretch of skin across it, wrists tied to the headboard, a ring gag in his mouth, drool pooling on the pillow that his face was pressed into, all topped off with a head like starlight. Tight, slick heat, sweat pooling on skin, a dark skull with a snake curling out of its mouth, its mouth stretching wider and wider-_

_“You fucking faggot!” It was Ginny’s voice coming out of it, shrieking out of it, louder than a Howler. “You’re disgusting, a pervert, How Dare you!” She-it-screamed as he plowed into the body below him._

_“You’ll pay for this! You’ll pay for all of this!”_

_And the snake lunged for his throat._  
____________

Harry woke up panting, still tangled in the clutches of the nightmare. Flinging the covers off, he scrambled for the loo, making it there just in time to vomit the little he had managed to eat for dinner into the toilet. He sat for a moment, back pressed against the cabinets under the sink, and caught his breath. He finally stood and rinsed his mouth out, avoiding his own eyes in the mirror.

He needed air, he thought desperately, and wasn’t that just one of the perks of being a professor? No need to drag out his cloak or ask permission. It wouldn’t be his first midnight jaunt through the castle since he took his post, and he was grateful for the peace and clarity he halls offered him when everything else was silent.

His marriage to Ginny had ended explosively. They had married fresh out of school, just one year after the Battle of Hogwarts, just one out of a slew of other post-war unions. Things seemed good at first, as they always do. Ginny was pursuing Quidditch professionally. Harry was training for the Auror Corps. They were busy living exciting lives. For two, blissfully ignorant years, they were happy.

Harry could look back and realize that wasn’t 100% accurate. He had a nagging sense that something wasn’t quite right in their relationship for a long time before things finally came to a head, but it’s easy to ignore feelings like that when you’re also dealing with flashbacks — PTSD, Hermione called it. Being on guard for the entirety of his life, it would take time to adjust to the motions of civilian living.

Harry found himself pulling away from Ginny, throwing himself harder into his work, until one case that had his team exploring illicit potion use on unsuspecting Muggles in a gay bar. The press of half naked bodies, all moving and grinding to the pumping bass pouring from the speakers… It was an image that tormented him for the next year, waking him up in the middle of the night, breathless and hard and aching for something he hadn’t ever realized was missing from his life. 

He was repulsed by himself. He had a beautiful wife, a kind, loving woman who was his constant companion. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t love her? What was wrong with him that he was thinking of other people, of men, while sharing a bed with the woman he had sworn to be faithful to until death did they part? 

Three and a half years into their marriage, he met a man at a bar and ended up fucking him against the wall in the loo. He had never came harder in his life. 

It took six more months before he opened up to Ginny, hoping that the friendship that formed the foundation of their relationship initially would allow her to have some level of empathy or understanding. 

It didn’t.

It was the first time he had been called a faggot. It wouldn’t be the last, of course, but the first time you hear something like that sticks with you, even years after. It certainly wasn’t the first time it had made an appearance in one of his nightmares, especially when he was fretting about his sexuality. He knew he was gay, or at least 85% gay at least, but he was beginning to acknowledge the growing attraction he was developing toward Malfoy and that… The rest of the dream…

He stepped out onto the Astronomy Tower, the place that he usually ended up on nights where he needed some quiet. Unlike those other nights, this time the tower wasn’t empty. He paused on the threshold for just a second before grabbing a spot at the banister just a few feet away from Malfoy.

“Malfoy-,” Harry began, but was cut off.

“I’m really not interested in talking, Potter,” came the biting reply.

Harry chuckled. “Neither am I, believe me. I was just going to ask if you would mind if I had a cigarette? The smoke bothers some people.”

“You smoke?” Malfoy asked, the tone of curiosity and incredulity evident in his voice.

Harry simply shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his jeans and lit it without the use of his wand or a lighter. “I picked it up a few years ago. I’m not much of a drinker, only when there’s some processing to be done or I’m in a shit mood, but out at bars- especially gay bars- you stand out more if you aren’t smoking or drinking. Now,” he continued as he took another puff, “It’s part habit and part comfort.”

“But it’s so bad for you.”

Another shrug. “Easier than the alternatives.”

“What does that mean?”

Harry huffed out a laugh and a cloud of smoke with it. “I thought you weren’t up for talking?”

He watched with some regret as Malfoy tensed right back up, almost able to physically see the walls being rebuilt. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Malfoy, I was joking. I don’t mind talking, that question is just… personal. I don’t know that I’ve ever gone into it with anyone else,” _who wasn’t already looking to negotiate a scene,_ Harry added to himself, “so please don’t take it personally.”

After a moment of silence, Malfoy finally spoke. “Can I have a cigarette?”

“I thought you said they were so bad for you,” Harry teased while getting one out of the pack and handing it to Malfoy.

“It’s easier than the alternatives.”

“Fair enough. Inhale slowly. You’ll probably cough, that’s normal. You’ll also probably feel lightheaded.”

Malfoy put the cigarette to his lips and Harry lit it for him, trying his hardest not to get distracted by the way Malfoy’s soft, pink lips wrapped a little tighter around the filter and he inhaled, ever so gently…

The moment was broken when Malfoy did cough, and Harry suppressed a chuckle at the look on his face. “That’s not at all what I was expecting it to taste like.”

“It takes some getting used to.”

The second puff went better than the first, and Harry watched as the cloud of smoke was carried off the tower by a gust of wind.

“You’re right. It’s better that time.” Harry’s small smile at that comment drifted off when Malfoy continued. “What brought you up here tonight?”

“It’s peaceful. Away from everything else. I come up here when I can’t sleep, or when I’ve had a nightmare and need some air, like tonight.”

How long had it been since he had told someone he was still having nightmares?

He banished the thought by asking the same question of Malfoy, and was a little surprised to hear the answer. “Same as you, nightmares.”

Harry simply nodded and let the silence fall between them while they finished their cigarettes.

“I’m heading back in now. Thank you for the cigarette, and the conversation. It… It helped.”

“Thank you for the company. I didn’t know I needed it, but it was good.” Malfoy nodded and turned to head to the door. “If… If you ever need a smoking buddy or some low key company or just can’t sleep, you know where my rooms are.”

Another small nod and Malfoy was gone.

Harry lit another cigarette and wondered what “alternatives” Malfoy was running from.  
___________________

Standing watch along the edges of the Great Hall during the now-traditional annual Halloween Ball, Harry wished he could have been literally almost anywhere else. Only half an hour left in his shift and he would be able to duck off to enjoy a bit of solitude.

He had always hated the holiday. He could appreciate the old traditions, remembering loved ones who have passed, celebrating their lives, but when you’ve lost so many… It was hard to find the energy for any sort of celebration.

After what seemed like ages, Professor Binns allowed him to escape as quickly as he was able to make his way through the Great Hall. The entrance hall was blessedly empty, and he was sure he had made it out without incident until he heard a voice from behind him.

“Potter!” 

He stopped, trying to hide his disappointment at needing to socialize, before turning around. “Hey, Malfoy. What’s up?”

“I know you said you don’t really drink, but I have a bottle of Firewhiskey and a strong desire to to get pissed. I’m told by reliable sources that drinking by oneself if bad form, so… Mind some company?”

“I wouldn’t make very good company tonight, to be completely honest.”

“Neither would I.” He waits a beat. “So… My rooms or yours?”

Harry laughed despite himself. “Mine are probably warmer than that cave of yours in the dungeons.”

Malfoy seemed to weigh the options for a minute before he smiled. “That’s probably fair. I’ll meet you up there.”

“Sounds good.”

Not half an hour later, Harry found himself curled up in one of his arm chairs by the fire, Malfoy across from him, and the burn of Firewhiskey in his throat.

“I really expected your rooms to be all red and gold, Potter, not as… refined as this.”

There were tokens from his travels gracing the shelves between his books, Muggle paintings decorating the walls, and aside from his framed Quidditch jersey, there was barely a spec of red or gold or anything Gryffindor in sight.

“Well, are your rooms all silver and green?”

“No, but you were always more sentimental about your house than I was.”

“Why did you want company tonight?”

“I didn’t want company tonight, Potter. I needed it.”

“Spending time with me easier than the alternatives?”

Malfoy tipped his glass in acknowledgement of their previous conversation. “Tonight, yes.”

“And what are those alternatives?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Malfoy shot back before reaching for the bottle. Harry looked down, slightly shocked to find his glass as empty as Malfoy’s. 

“The weather is great this time of year,” he replied instead.

“Dodging the subject, then?”

“I told you already. I don’t talk about it with anyone.” _Who isn’t going to end up in my bed,_ his inner monologue supplied.

“Same. So, we’re even. The weather has been lovely lately. What do you have nightmares about?”

Harry choked on his whiskey. “Jesus, Malfoy.”

“You started it with the personal questions.”

“Which you didn’t answer, so why should I answer yours?”

“Different subject?”

“Fine,” Harry huffed, then smirked. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Malfoy was quiet for a few moments before quietly beginning. “I watched Professor Burbage murdered with my father’s wand while suspended above my dining room table, then swallowed by that bloody snake for dinner.”

The silence rang for a second between them before Harry cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You were a child. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“So were you.”

Harry shrugged and finished his drink. “I didn’t have a choice. Kill or be killed, that was the prophecy.”

“He threatened my mother.”

“I know. She told me. Neither of us had a choice, Draco. We were both children trying to do the best with the cards we were dealt.”

“You were better at it than I was.”

“I don’t have a mother to be used as leverage, so honestly, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same in your position.”

“You can’t honestly believe that.”

“Why do you think that I testified at your trial? We were both victims of circumstance, just on different sides of the war.”

The quiet stretched again, not uncomfortably, before Harry spoke again.

“When I’m near a Dementor, I hear my mother’s screams as Voldemort killed her. While it’s been so long since I’ve come face to face with one, I still recall with perfect clarity what it’s like. Sometimes my nightmares are about that.”

“Gods… I was such a dick to you in school.” 

Harry laughed out loud. “Yes, yes you were.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

The hushed tone of his voice sobered Harry at once. “I know, Draco. So am I.”

“You’ve started calling me Draco.”

“Oh. Does it bother you?”

“No… Harry.”

“Well, good.”

They finished their drinks in peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternatives, revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love already, folks! This is fantastic, thank you all! 
> 
> I make mention of something in this chapter called the Hanky Code. The Hanky Code is a really fascinating part of gay history from just after WWII ended, which was when Leather as a gay subculture took off. Gay men coming back to the United States (where homosexuality was still very much Not Okay) would meet in backrooms or shady dive bars. They would wear an assortment of handkerchiefs in their pockets, right for if they bottomed/received something, left if they were looking to give/top, middle if they switched. Every color meant something different, and the list has grown by leaps and bounds in the decades since then. You can find a link to the breakdown of meanings [here.](https://user.xmission.com/~trevin/hanky.html)
> 
> For this chapter, Hunter Green (meaning Sir or Daddy if worn on the left and Boy* if worn on the right) and Silver (Left - celebrity, right - celebrity chaser) are the only two important ones. I swear this will be funny when you hit that part in the chapter. 
> 
> *Boy here is not used to refer to age play of any sort, but rather is a classic term in the gay men's leather community to refer to most submissive men (and, in recent years, to some women who will either stick with the traditional boy spelling or choose the slightly feminized boi one).

Harry and Draco started spending nights together regularly. At least once a week, they would hole up in one of their rooms to grade papers, work on research, vent, or simply talk about all manner of things. Whenever Draco showed up with whiskey, Harry knew they’d end up discussing personal matters- the war, his divorce, Narcissa’s declining health. 

Their behavior changed slower outside of the confines of their rooms, but soon enough their friendliness was noticed by McGonagall.

“Professor Potter, a word?” she called after him before he left the Great Hall one night.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been spending more time with Professor Malfoy of late. How is that going?”

“Well, I think. We haven’t come to blows yet, so that’s a good sign.”

She laughed. “Good. I’d hate to find replacements for you both this far into the school year.” She paused and grew thoughtful. “Be careful with him, Harry. He needs friends. I haven’t seen him this happy in all the time I’ve known him.”

“I’ll do my best, Professor,” he replied, and meant it completely.  
__________________

By the time winter holidays rolled around, their weekly meetings had turned into two or three times a week meetings. Harry, loathe to admit it, would miss Draco while he was away for winter break.

He would not, however, miss the tension. He was growing rather tired of keeping himself in check, constantly making sure he didn’t stare for too long or touch Draco in any way that could be seen as more than friendly. The worst was waking up in the middle of the night from dreams of Draco in all sorts of positions, wrapped in rope with welts raised on his skin, begging for more. They left Harry achingly hard or covered in his own cum like some bloody teenager.

He was hoping the break would stop the dreams, or at the very least, the break would allow him to find a club or a party, somewhere he could release some of his frustration. He finally found one that looked promising, a mixed crowd that had plenty of men who were looking for other men. Sex positive, a clean and safe space, one he had been to before, very Muggle, and three days before New Year’s Eve.

He spent Boxing Day doing maintenance on his kit- washing and conditioning his rope and floggers, sharpening his knife collection, doing some other leather care. Working on his boots was his favorite part, using his hands to work the polish in, the soft brush coaxing out the shine. He knew there were spells that could probably do this better than he could on his own, but the process was soothing and brought him peace and-

Why on earth was someone knocking on his door at 10:00 at night?

He went to answer, hoping it was something he could handle quickly and without letting whoever it was in because he really didn’t want to have to explain the various implements littering his parlor. 

“Yes?”

“Harry! I’m happy you’re awake. I brought your Christmas present,” Draco said and pushed his way into the room before Harry could process what was happening, let alone stop him. “I hope you had a— Oh.”

Harry took a deep breath and closed the door.

Draco had set the bottle of whiskey he had brought with him on a side table next to a small gift wrapped in gold. Harry spared a brief thought at his present for Draco and how the other man probably wouldn’t want it now that he knew. 

“What… What is…”

“Exactly what it looks like.”

“So you… You’re into kink-”

“Yeah.”

“Too?” Draco finished.

Harry froze. “What?”

“I asked if you were kinky too, and you said yes. Christ. How did we keep this from each other?”

“Wait… Your alternatives…” Draco nodded. “Oh. I- oh. Well, then.” Harry cleared his throat. “You know, where the glasses are. May as well pour the whiskey. I have polish all over my hands, and I still need to finish my boots.”

Harry moved like he was in a dream. Draco? Kinky? Like him? All the images his subconscious had drawn up for him rushed to the surface of his mind, and he was grateful he had the distraction of his boots to stop him from making a fool of himself. He downed the first glass of whiskey Draco handed to him. “I’m almost done with these, then I’ll wash up and get your gift as well.”

“Take your time. When… When did you get involved with all of this?”

“I’ve always been interested, for as long as I’ve known what sex was at least. I experimented a bit with Ginny, but she wasn’t as into it as I was, so I let it drop. Shortly after our divorce, so about 4 years ago now, I met a man at a bar who was wearing full leather. He took me home with him, and, well…” Harry took a sip of his refilled drink. “Took me a while to realize bottoming wasn’t for me. Not in the power dynamic sense, at least.

“I had so much of my life planned for me, so little choice in the way that anything played out. I enjoy being in complete and total control every now and then.” Harry was 100%, absolutely positive that it was the alcohol making Draco flush. “How about you?” 

“I didn’t exactly have a healthy introduction. Probably about 8 years ago now, I was really losing it. A major guilt spiral. I… was looking for ways to punish myself, and self-harm just wasn’t doing it any more. I found someone who was significantly more of a Sadist than a Dom with no emotional depth whatsoever. It was more than a little disastrous. I got out after a while, and started exploring healthier paths. Still a bottom, still a masochist, just with more knowledge of my limits and doing it because I enjoy it, not because I think I deserve it.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Draco shrugged. “It’s only fair. Why do you use the Muggle way for all of this?” he asked, gesturing to Harry’s equipment. 

“I’m a very tactile person. I prefer to feel things as I’m working on them, and while there is a certain level of skill that’s required in cleaning spells, it’s not nearly as challenging as doing it by hand. Besides, the motions of all this maintenance are soothing to me. The process is also good at getting me into the appropriate head space if I’m going to be playing.”

“Oh. Did you… Did you have a date tonight?” There was a distinct note of sadness and more than a little jealousy that slipped out with that question.

“No, no. There’s a party in two days that I was planning on going to, that’s all.” He did use his wand to get the polish off of his hands. “Let me go grab your present now.” He ran up to his room and grabbed the small, carefully wrapped blue box. 

“What, no green and silver?” Draco asked with a smirk as he returned.

“Nah. Blue is your favorite color.” Harry paused at the look on Draco’s face. “… Right?”

“I never told you that.”

“No, but it’s the color you wear most often,” Harry said, gesturing to the deep blue sweater Draco was wearing. “I’m an Auror, remember? Just because I’ve stepped away from the office, I still have the rank and all the observational skills that come with it.”

Draco laughed. “Well, I’m afraid I went the more stereotypical route,” he said, and passed Harry the gold wrapped box, topped off with a giant red bow. Inside was a miniature Quidditch pitch, complete with two teams on little brooms, miniature bludgers and quaffles and even a tiny golden snitch.

“Draco, this is brilliant! I love it.”

“You’re quite welcome, Harry, they-. Oh,” he had just finished opening his own gift to find a hand-tooled leather bracelet with the ouroboros symbol etched in it, all in hunter green and silver. 

“I have a friend, completely Muggle, who makes leather gear. I… I get that these colors mean something different in the kink community, but I was only hoping you would enjoy it when I had it commissioned. It was a bit of a crack at you being a Slytherin as well, obviously, but mostly I just hoped you'd like it.”

“I love it, Harry. Thank you.” Harry watched as Draco struggled a moment to put it on before reaching out and snapping the cuff closed. “It’s super comfortable.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it. He is an amazing craftsman, one I’m more than happy to support whenever I can. How was the rest of your holiday?”

Draco shrugged. “Mother is quite ill. I, ah. I don’t think she has much more left in her, to be honest.”

Harry, not thinking, reached out and put his hand on Draco’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

He gave a sad smile. “She loved your gift, though. The singing flowers. I didn’t realize the two of your were still in so much contact.”

It was Harry’s turn to shrug. “She saved my life. The entirety of the Wizarding world owes a debt to her love of you, and I respect her. You reminded me that I have to send her a thank you note. I am now in possession of the absolute softest sweater.”

Draco laughed, and some of the tension broke. “She’s amazing at buying people gifts, even clothes. It’s a true talent.”

They lapsed into another silence, and Harry took the opportunity to begin wrapping his rope into neat, individual bundles. Next to polishing his boots, it was perhaps his favorite maintenance activity. More repetitive motion, the feel of the different ropes gathering up in his hands, and- now- the feel of Draco’s eyes on him while he worked.

“So is rope your main thing?” Draco asked.

“One of them. I like to think I’m a fairly well rounded player, but rough body play more than anything is what gets me going. Rope, high protocol service, and knives all come in pretty close seconds, and in no particular order.”

Harry would have had to be deaf to not notice the way Draco’s breath hitched as he spoke. He would also have to be a complete idiot to not at least _try_ to capitalize on this situation.

“What about you, Draco? What do _you_ like?” he asked, letting the Firewhiskey drip a bit more flirtatiousness into his voice than he had necessarily intended.

“I’m, um, I’m primarily a masochist with a preference for thud over sting. I like restriction of movement, be it total body bondage or just being held in place, as well as sensory deprivation. Knives are another major one for me as well. Why do you say rough body play and not impact play?”

“Impact play brings to mind nothing but paddles and floggers and the like, and while I enjoy them,” here, Harry gestured to the 3 floggers and the single whip he owned that were sprawled out around him, “I prefer the feel of skin on skin, or at least close to it. I’ll use weighted gloves some times, and I’m a big fan of using my boots on someone. It’s more… visceral. Primal.” He made eye contact with Draco. “Vicious.”

It took Draco a second to speak, and he broke eye contact when he did. “I’ve never thought of it like that. I’ve never really been with someone who used anything besides implements…”

“It’s not for everyone. It’s physically demanding, especially for the Top. There’s a lot more work involved, and most Tops are, frankly, lazy. It’s also violent in a way that implements aren’t. There’s nothing except maybe a thin layer of leather or some gloves separating you from the person you’re beating so you feel the reverberations. You have to be 100% present. It’s honest. Raw and beautifully honest. I think that’s the main reason I like it so much.”

“An honesty kink?” Draco joked after he cleared his throat. “That must be the most Gryffindor thing I have ever heard.”

Harry chuckled. “Oh, shut up, you.”

Draco steered them on to lighter subjects, but Harry didn’t miss the way his eyes tracked Harry’s movements as he carefully, methodically packed his toys back into the suitcase he used as his toy bag. 

“So where is this party you’re going to?” Draco asked.

“A members only, very private Muggle club called Eos. I made friend with a Pro Domme about 2 years ago who got me an in to the place. She’s one of the proprietors. Incredibly open space, mixed crowd, good energy. It was the space that hosted the last party I went to back in July.”

“And… do you… have a date for it?”

Maybe it was the fact that the bottle of Firewhiskey was now gone between the two of them or maybe it was the way Draco licked his lips again when he finished asking that, but Harry decided to take his chance. 

“What is it you really want to ask me, Draco?”

“I- what?”

Harry simply raised an eyebrow in response and watched with fascination as the color rose in Draco’s cheeks. 

“I… That is… I would…” Harry began to count down, waiting for the crack in Draco’s veneer to widen a bit, and… _there._ “God damn it, Potter. Must I ask? You know. You obviously know. The way you’ve been flirting all night… I know you’ve seen my reactions. Do you really prefer it when people beg? Can’t you just put me out of my misery?”

“What I prefer, Draco, is when people ask for what they want.”

After a moment, Draco stood, and Harry questioned whether he had pushed too hard. It had been so long since he had done this, so long since he had met someone he thought he could care for who was also potentially as fucked up as he was. 

_‘Please let me have read him right. Please don’t let me fuck this up,’_ he thought as Draco started to pace. 

“I am not good at this sort of thing,” Draco said when he finally spoke.

“Take your time.”

“Take my time? _Take my time?_ Does this ever get easier? I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I already told you, Draco: honesty.”

“Honesty. You say that like it’s so simple.”

“It is, if you let it be. Tell me, Draco, do you really think that I am like all those other people who fucked you over? Do you think that I would disregard your feelings? Do you think that I don’t care about you?”

Harry watched as Draco stopped pacing at that, watched as a flicker of hope crossed his face, then as the shutters came back down.

“You only seem interested now that you know I’m into the same things that you are.”

“Oh, Draco. You have no idea how wrong that is. You don't spend half your school years stalking someone and not develop feelings of some sort for them. Even if it took me a decade or so to come to terms with that.” He paused, gauging Draco’s reaction. “I have never not been interested in you, Draco. Half the reason I was actively looking for a party was because I needed to let off steam so I could be more grounded around you. So you wouldn’t catch me staring. So I wouldn’t do something stupid. I didn’t want to risk our friendship by taking a chance when I didn’t think my feelings were returned. You have become far too important far too quickly to me for that.”

Draco sighed, the sound part frustrated, mostly resigned, and sat back in his seat. Harry waited for him to speak, let the moments stretch into minutes, until Draco’s shoulders finally slumped and he cast his eyes to the floor. “I don’t know what I want.” 

It was obvious that he hadn’t expected Harry to respond with a smile, but that’s exactly what happened. “It’s okay to not know every little detail of what you want, Draco. We’re drunk at the moment, first of all, unless that bottle of whiskey was really just water in disguise.” Harry watched as Draco relaxed again, the edges of his uncertainty fading just a little bit with Harry’s words. “Let me make a deal with you. Go back to your rooms, try to get some sleep, and we’ll have dinner together tomorrow night. Say around 7:00, down at the Three Broomsticks? Between now and then, think about what you’re looking for. I’ll have my own answer to that question ready as well.”

“I-. Yes. I think that would be good.”

“Excellent. Can you make it back to your rooms alright? Can’t have you stumbling through the halls like some 5th year, now can we.” 

“I’m not a bloody teenager, Potter.” 

Just like that, the tension broke, and they laughed together as Harry walked Draco to the door. Before closing it, Harry touched Draco’s arm.

“I want to be clear with you about something, Draco. None of this was simply the whiskey talking. I will still feel the exact same way in the morning, hangover or not. Do you understand?” Draco nodded. “Good,” Harry breathed.

Then he, ever so gently, pressed his lips to Draco’s-

“Goodnight, Draco.”

\- And closed the door in the other man’s face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotiations are my biggest kink!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions for this chapter: 
> 
> s-type: generic term used to describe the bottom/submissive in a scene/dynamic/relationship
> 
> Also, from someone who has been an out and proud activist/leader/community organizer in the kink and leather worlds for the past several years, just a note: this is actually a good way to negotiate any scene with someone you're going to be starting an ongoing relationship with or just someone you haven't played with in a while, especially if you're new or if you've never seen them play or engage in any kink specific behaviors before. It is always, always, _always_ good to talk things out first. The level of discussion depends on the level of experience everyone involved has (both with kink and with each other), but should always be a thing that happens. 
> 
> You'll see in the next chapter (where almost all the porn lies, dear goodness *fans self*) how negotiations actually come into play during a scene.

At 6:55, Harry walked into the Three Broomsticks. He greeted Madam Rosmerta with a smile and placed an order for two Butterbeers before grabbing his usual table in the back. Draco walked in at 7:00 exactly, and Harry found himself inordinately pleased by his punctuality. After all, punctuality was something he demanded of his submissives-.

But he was getting ahead of himself. They hadn’t even spoken yet. He should probably start by simply waving the man over to join him.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” Draco said as he took the seat across from Harry.

“No, no. I’ve only been here a few minutes. I ordered you a butterbeer, but feel free to get whatever you would like instead if that doesn’t suit you.”

“This is perfect, thank you.”

Rosmerta came over to take their orders, and they stuck to safe topics while they ate. Stories about their respective holidays that they hadn’t discussed the night before, lesson plans for the spring term, all innocuous topics. 

And yet, throughout their meal, Harry was distinctly aware of the lack of eye contact from Draco, the subdued mannerisms, the way he always let Harry speak to Rosmerta or even deciding for them both that a glass each of something stronger than butterbeer was called for once their plates were taken away. 

“So, Draco,” Harry said before sipping on his whiskey. “Have you thought about our conversation from last night?”

“It’s been difficult to do anything else.”

Harry laughed lightly at that. “I understand the feeling. Have you come up with an answer to my question?”

“I believe so,” Draco said. He paused to gather his thoughts properly before continuing in an almost quiet tone. “I would like to go to the party with you tomorrow night, acting in the capacity of your s-type, after negotiating limits, of course. If we don’t click, or negotiations find that we have vastly different tastes, I believe that I would be able to- after a little time- revert to our previous level of friendship.”

Harry swirled the whiskey in his glass as he thought over Draco’s words and had to stop himself from chuckling at the formality that doused every word of the statement. He couldn’t help but let a rather pleased smile slip through.

“That’s excellent, Draco. We’re on the same page, exactly. Thank you, for being willing to think things through like that for me.”

“I-it was nothing.”

“No, it most definitely was something, given your response to my request last night. Asking and being honest with ourselves about what we want is incredibly difficult. You did very well.”

“It was a test, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was a test, Draco. I don’t have the time, energy, or desire to get involved with someone who isn’t willing to ask themselves the hard questions, and I don’t want to find myself caught up with someone who will always tell me exactly what he thinks I want to hear. I get enough of that from the rest of the Wizarding world. If you had sat down tonight and said you that you wanted me to train you into becoming the perfect slave for me and were willing to take my collar right here and now, I would’ve laughed in your face. 

“But you did exactly as I expected— and hoped— you would. You gave me an answer that focused on the here and now, not far out plans. You thought about what would happen if this doesn’t work out. Absolutely perfect.”

“I feel like I should be offended that you put me through some sort of test, but I find myself thinking that it was rather clever of you.”

“I do that on occasion,” Harry replied, clinking his glass against Draco’s before taking another sip. “We do have negotiations to go through before tomorrow. Do you want to do that here? I can cast a privacy charm. Or we can head back up to the castle?”

“The castle, please.”

Harry called for the check and paid despite Draco’s protests. “Negotiation part one: I like treating. I know you have money, I know you don’t need me to take care of you financially, I know that you can pay your own way, I just don’t want you to. Will that be an issue?”

Draco took a moment. “So long as it has nothing to do with pity or thinking I need help, then no, it won’t be an issue.”

“Good. It definitely doesn’t, so don’t protest in the future, okay? Shall we head back now?”

They walked back to the castle slowly, heading toward Draco’s rooms instead of Harry’s. The suggestion was a deliberate attempt from Harry to make Draco as comfortable as he could be.

“So, what are your hard limits, Draco?” Harry asked once they were settled by the fire with another glass of whiskey each. 

“Nothing that causes permanent damage. Nothing involving piss, scat, children, or animals. Humiliation play is a weird thing for me, so I’d rather avoid it for now, but maybe come back to it down the line? Those are the main things that come to mind. What about you?”

“About the same as yours, actually. I prefer to get to know someone more as a play partner before humiliation is brought into it unless it’s been heavily negotiated beforehand. I’m not as opposed to water sports on some levels, but that is by no means a thing that I need in order to enjoy myself. Do you want this to be a sexual relationship?”

Draco swallowed his sip of whiskey a little too fast and almost choked. “I-I thought that was a given.”

Harry took a steadying breath, trying hard not to let his anger at the previous partners Draco had been with show through.“Not necessarily. Sex certainly doesn’t have to factor in to it if you’d rather it didn’t. Sometimes, it’s about the sensation, chasing the high of being in head space, the exchange of trust and control. Those all have their own rewards without the end goal of an orgasm.”

“I guess I knew that in theory. I… I would still like this to be a sexual relationship, if you’re interested. If not, I would be open to exploring what it would look like in a non-sexual capacity as well.”

“I would most definitely want this to be a sexual relationship, Draco. You are one of the most gorgeous people I’ve ever seen, and I mean that in more than just your looks.” Harry reveled in the blush that crept up Draco’s neck at that before moving on. 

“What does aftercare look like for you?”

“Ah… keeping physical contact going. The length of time depends on the intensity of the scene. I usually need to eat something small not long after. Water, of course.”

“Do you have any any physical limitations or STIs that I should be aware of?”

“No, I’ve been fairly lucky that none of my wild escapades have resulted in lasting harm. I haven’t been with anyone in any capacity since I had my physical done at the end of the summer, and there was a full panel of tests done there that came back negative.”

“Thank you. All my STI screenings came up negative as well. As far as physical limitations, my left leg isn’t the sturdiest. I got into a scuffle with a suspect on one of my Auror patrols, and no matter the amount of potions and spells, it still likes to act up occasionally. What are you looking for tomorrow night?”

It took Draco several long moments before he was able to answer that one. “I don’t know. I… I don’t want to have to make decisions. I want my brain to stop for a few hours.” He braced himself with another sip of his drink before he continued. “I want to hand my control over to you, because I trust that you won’t hurt me.”

“Not anymore than you would like, no.” That brought a smile to Draco’s face, just as Harry intended. “I’m honored, Draco. Truly. I just want to make sure you’re prepared for that. I’ll decide what you wear, what you eat, what you drink, who you engage with, what we do together. If you hand me control over you, I will happily take it, but I need to know that you know what you’re asking.”

“I-I’ve thought of little else for the past 24 hours, Harry. I know what I’m asking of you.”

Harry nodded. “Put your drink down, come here, and kneel in front of me.”

Draco hesitated for half a second as Harry watched him grapple with the shift in direction their conversation had taken. A half a second to show Harry that Draco was still thinking, still here, still processing, which was exactly what Harry wanted.

And then Draco Malfoy was on his knees in front of him, arse resting on his heels, back straight, head bowed.

_Perfect._

“Thank you, Draco.”  
——————————————

The following night, Draco met Harry in the entrance hall at 9:45 sharp. He was wearing the outfit Harry had chosen for him: tight fitting dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a freshly shined pair of dragon hide boots and a belt to match.

“You look fantastic, Draco.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Harry smiled brightly. “Carry this for me, please,” he said, while handing Draco his toy bag. 

“We’ll walk down to Hogsmeade and apparate from there.”

The walk was pleasant, with none of the awkward pauses Harry had feared there might be. He was, in all honestly, terrified of fucking the night up. The list of things that could go wrong was endless, and all of them ended with him losing his new found connection with Draco, something he just wasn’t as sure he’d be able to deal with as the other man seemed to be. 

He couldn’t dwell long on the issue, however. They reached the edges of the castle’s protections soon enough. 

“There’s an alley just a few buildings down from the space that I’ll be apparating us to,” Harry said and took Draco’s hand. “Hold tight.”

5 minutes later, they found themselves outside of what appeared to be a rather run down warehouse. Music drifted faintly out of the building, but other than that, the only sign that the space was anything special was the small line of people waiting to get in. 

“Harry!” A woman called from the door as they approached and wrapped Harry in a tight hug. She was taller than him thanks to the heels she wore, but would have stood out even if she wasn’t. She wore a bright red latex dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, with lipstick to match. “How good to see you again. When I saw your name on the RSVP list, I couldn’t wait. Come in, come in. Tell me about this ridiculously handsome fellow you have carrying your bag.”

Harry laughed. “This, my darling, is Draco. Draco, this is Lady Olivia, or Lady O for short. Say hello to her.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Draco said before bending low to kiss the hand she held out to him.

“My, my. What a treasure. Pronouns?”

“He/him,” Harry answered.

“You interested in sharing him tonight, love?”

Harry watched a flicker of fear cross Draco’s face. “No, not tonight at least.”

“Boo. You ruin all my fun.”

“All your fun? You are an exquisite example of womankind. The amount of people falling at your feet hoping you’ll notice them is astronomical. You won’t miss this one.”

She laughed out loud, deep and throaty. “Flattery will get you everywhere. You know where everything is. Please allow Marcie to take your coats. Say hello to me again when you have some time.”

Harry lead them inside, appreciating the way Draco asked before reaching to help him with his jacket. The space was exactly as Harry remembered: furniture of every variety was scattered about the large warehouse floor, leaving plenty of space between for people to walk while others played. There were several rooms off to the sides, all with varying themes. One was strictly for group sex, another for medical play, still another with soft couches and a curtain across its entrance that marked it as a quiet space for aftercare. 

“What do you think?” he asked Draco.

“It’s amazing, Sir. Lady O seems like a wonderful woman. Thank you for telling her you weren’t planning on sharing me.”

“That wasn’t something we had discussed. Besides, I’m feeling rather selfish tonight,” he added with a wink. “Now, I have a task for you. I want to do a walk of the room, partly to show you around and what equipment is available, but also to say hello to some people. While we’re doing that, I’d like you to make a note of things that catch your eye: scenes, furniture, positions. I’ll expect you to have a few things to mention to me, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Thank you. Shall we?”

They made their way around the room, stopping to say hello to people Harry knew from past events, and all the while, Draco scanned his surroundings, looking for things to report to Harry. The Bacchanalia Room (as the sign read) was fascinating, as it had all manner of people in all shapes, sizes, colors, and genders arranged in what seemed like every sexual combination and position imaginable. Maybe that for another night? The intricacies of the rope scenes that were happening always drew Draco in because he admired the precision and patience they required. 

And then they came to a scene where the bottom was blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a Saint Andrew’s Cross, completely naked, while the Top ran a knife along their back which was already covered in a series of welts and bruises. Draco stopped in his tracks to watch, tracing the path of the knife as it moved, never cutting, never drawing blood, just teasing. 

Harry watched as Draco licked his lips, watched his pupils blow impossibly wider. 

“Well, I think I have my answer,” he said, and enjoyed the way Draco almost jumped as he came back to the present. “Let’s finish our loop, and you can tell me what else caught your eye, hm?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Yes, Harry could get used to this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the porn I promised you. That's literally all this chapter is, with a smattering of feelings at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard-Points: Places to anchor suspensions (rope or otherwise) from, usually some sort of beam or, in the case of this story, larger eyelets permanently placed in the ceiling.
> 
> Riggers: People into rope, usually used specifically to reference rope tops.
> 
> Safeword: A pre-negotiated word that halts all activity during a scene. The community standard safe word is usually Red, based on the stoplight system where red = stop, yellow = slow down/check in, and green = good to go. In the event of someone not being able to talk (a gag, breath play, simply can't form words), safety signals are used. These can be taps, a series of grunts, or (the person is both bound and gagged and thus can't move or speak), I've used a bell placed in the bottom's hand that they can drop as a signal to me that I need to check in/stop.
> 
> [The knife I picture Harry using.](https://www.amazon.com/TAC-Assisted-Opening-Tactical-Folding/dp/B00XMYLRLC/ref=sr_1_3?s=sporting-goods&ie=UTF8&qid=1499203135&sr=1-3&keywords=black+knife)

Harry had the same thought as they completed their circuit. It was as much as test of his own self-control as it was of Draco’s. He had wanted nothing more than to strip Draco bare and lay into him on the first piece of available furniture he saw, but held back. He wanted the night to be as perfect as it could be. He wanted to know what would really get Draco off. There’s only so much in negotiations that you can cover; seeing the reactions to real life, in progress scenes could show so much more. 

Harry lead them to one of the side rooms. It was a more private affair than the main space. A cross, a couch, some chairs, a few hard points. There was nothing stopping anyone from coming in to the space to watch, but it was made for only one scene at a time, perfect for what Harry wanted. 

“You can set the bag on the table there, Draco,” he said, and enjoyed watching Draco attempt to take in the space and follow the order at the same time. The posh, constantly in control air that the man always wore had started to crack more as the night went on. “You’re beautiful.”

The bag dropped with a thud to the table. “What?”

Harry chuckled and stepped closer to Draco. “You should know by now I don’t like repeating myself, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He paused for a moment, then cupped Draco’s chin in his hand. “I said, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re quite welcome. I also haven’t kissed you yet tonight.”

“I noticed.” At some point, maybe the following day, Harry would have to mention the way Draco pouted as he said that.

But he only laughed again. “Let me fix that, then.” 

It started chastely, which was what Harry’s intent had been, but it quickly got messy. Harry bit Draco’s lip, reveling in the moan that escaped the other man’s mouth, before he forced himself to take a step back.

“What did you see that you liked?”

After gathering himself, Draco walked him through the things that caught his attention. “I’ve never been in any sort of group-sex situation, so the orgy room was… intriguing. I always love watching riggers work. The two women who were Topping that guy together. I’m not usually interested in women, so I don’t really think it was them, per se. I think it was more the concept of two people Topping at the same time.” Draco swallowed. “Then, well, then there was that scene you noticed caught my attention. I’m a big fan of knives, like I said, and it was just… beautiful.”

“Thank you, Draco. This helps me get a better idea of what you like, what you’re intrigued by. Tonight… Tonight I think we’ll be sticking closer to that last scene you mentioned. With a few adjustments, of course. I don't want to give everything I’ll be doing to you away.”

Draco shivered, “Of course, Sir. I wouldn’t want that either.”

“Are you comfortable getting naked here?” Draco nodded. “Good. Strip for me, then. Fold your clothes as you finish and place them neatly on the table.”  
Harry watched as Draco slowly stripped off his t-shirt before folding it and setting it on the table. Next were his boots and socks, followed by his belt. When Draco’s jeans and pants were folded on the table. Harry stepped forward and began to slowly walk a circle around him. There were scars, including a single silvery stripe that ran diagonally across his chest that could only have come from _Sectumsempera._ Harry watched as Draco’s muscles stiffened, as his posture corrected itself, and— most importantly— as his cock filled out. 

“I love that you get off on me checking you out, Draco. It’s one of the most stereotypically Slytherin things I think I’ve ever seen from you. Getting off on someone finding you sexy.”

“I’m just glad you have such good taste,” Draco responded with a smirk, pausing just a moment before adding, “Sir.”

Harry’s hand wound its way into the blonde hair and yanked, the smile on his lips and the softness of his kiss belying the humor he found in the situation. “Such a smart mouth on you.”

Harry used his hold on Draco’s hair to walk him forward a few steps so he was under one of the hard points and ordered him to stay there. He turned to the table with his toy bag, marveling at how much he had brought when his plans involved so little. He pulled out a shorter length of rope, maybe 5 meters long, put on a pair of fingerless leather gloves that had weighted knuckles, and pocketed his favorite knife. 

You really don’t need a lot to have a good, kinky time.

“What’s your safeword?” Harry asked.

“Red. If I can’t speak, two or more taps or claps in quick succession.”

“Excellent. Don’t be afraid to use it if you need it. Now… put your wrists in front of you, please,” Harry said, and began the quick process of binding them together. He pulled the rope up and looped it through the hard point, bringing Draco’s arms up above his head. After he tied the rope off, he did another loop around Draco. 

“You really are fucking gorgeous, Draco.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Are you okay like this?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Good.” Harry took the black hanky that he had tucked into his left pocket and refolded it before turning it into a blindfold and blocking Draco’s vision. “You seemed rather interested in rough body play, am I right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. We’ll start there. I’m going to start slow, build you up, okay?” 

When Draco nodded, Harry began. Slow, steady, gentle open hand slaps made contact with Draco’s flesh, the weight of the gloves making the blows thud. Across his chest, his shoulders and upper back, down his thighs, across his ass, and back again. Harder, building, building, and the entire time, Draco moaning, trying to anticipate the blows before they came. Harry switched up the pattern. Gentle, gentle, _wham._

The first time he moved to a closed fist, the thud of it rocked through Draco’s chest, and he groaned.

“Good?”

“Fantastic. More, please, Sir.”

Harry smiled and resumed his rounds. Draco’s skin was reddening rapidly, marking more beautifully than any of his dreams had envisioned. He broke the monotony of hits every now and then to tug on Draco’s hair or wrap a hand around his throat or even run his fingers ever so lightly over the hard and bobbing cock. 

After one of these gentle touches, Draco positively _whined._

“Please, Sir, please…”

“Oh, no. We’re not nearly done yet.” Harry walked to his bag and pulled out a small, thin leather strap that he buckled around Draco’s cock. “You’ll cum when I tell you to cum, do you understand?”

“Yes… yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Gods… So beautiful like this.”

And with that, Harry flipped open his knife. The recognizable sound of it made Draco jerk his head up. 

Gently, never breaking skin, never digging in, Harry moved the blade along Draco’s skin. Thin scratches appeared wherever Harry dragged the knife, and the soft moans emanating from Draco told him he was getting the exact reaction he wanted. He interspersed the occasional slap or grab or hair pull, always moving, always switching it up, and he watched as Draco unravelled further and further.

Finally, as he felt more than saw anything concrete that Draco was nearing his limit, Harry pressed against Draco’s back, his own shirt long discarded, and wrapped his arm under Draco’s and brought the knife to the man’s neck. Draco froze, then went boneless.

That is, until Harry’s other hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke. 

“Oh, Gods…”

“I want you to beg for it, Draco. Beg me to let you cum.”

“Please, please, Sir, please may I cum?”

Harry laughed, low and deep, and Draco whimpered. “No.” A wandless lubrication spell upped the sensation, and the words began to spill out of Draco’s mouth.

“Please, please, Sir, please let me cum. Please let me cum. I need to. Please. Gods, please…”

Harry pressed the blade harder, his own control starting to slip. “I’m not sure you deserve it.”

“Oh, fuck. Harry, please. Please, Harry. I’ve been good. I’ve been so good. Please, may I cum? May I cum, please?”

Harry let it drag out for a minute longer before he flicked a finger down and undid the snap on the cock ring. “Cum for me, Draco. Cum for me now.”

Draco tensed, and Harry felt his cock throb in his hand. He bit down on Draco’s shoulder and the other man shouted as his release splattered on the floor in front of them. Harry dropped the arm holding the knife, flipping the blade closed and pocketing it. 

“I’m going to untie your hands now. Don’t try to walk yet, okay?”

The soft sound Draco made seemed like one of agreement, so Harry proceeded with bringing Draco’s arms down. He rubbed them, especially Draco’s wrists to help get the blood flowing again, before he pulled Draco into a hug. 

It was subtle, but Harry could feel Draco trembling. 

“You were amazing. You were so fantastic. Gods, Draco… Amazing.”

Slowly, Draco’s arms came up and wrapped tightly around Harry, fingers digging in to skin, and Harry rocked them slowly, keeping up his litany of praise the entire time.

“So fucking gorgeous. You did so well, so so well…”

It took a few minutes before the shaking subsided, and Draco pulled away. Harry saw that his eyes were red-rimmed and felt the lingering wetness on his skin. 

“Thank you,” Draco said, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

“You are quite welcome, Draco. Do you want to put your clothes on now while I clean up?”

“But…”

“But what?”

“I didn’t… I mean, you still haven’t…”

Harry smiled. “This wasn’t about me tonight. Besides… I was hoping you might spend the night with me. There could be time later, if you’re still interested.”

“You want me to sleep in your room with you?”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed while he passed Draco his clothes. “There’s no one in the castle right now. Or, barely anyone, I should say. No one that would care if they saw you leave my rooms in the morning. If you don’t want to, that’s also okay.”

“No, I- I would like that.”

Harry beamed. “Thank you.”

While Draco dressed, Harry repacked the toys into the bag and cleaned up the cum with a discreet cleaning spell. He ran a hand up Draco’s now clothed arm.

“Do you want to go hang out in the quiet space for a little while?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Want to start heading back?”

“If you don’t mind.” He seemed to catch himself and quickly added, “Sir.”

“It’s okay, Draco. You’ve done brilliantly.”

Harry took Draco’s hand in his and kissed it, before leading them out of the room. 

“Well, well, Harry,” Lady O said when they ran into her on their way to the door. “That was quite a scene. Over an hour. I don’t know how you managed to hold yourself back for that long.”

“Over an hour?” Draco asked Harry quietly. 

“Apparently. I lost track of the time as well. Gods, you’ll be sore in the morning.”

“Don’t sound so bloody pleased about it,” Draco quipped. Harry merely quirked an eyebrow at him. Draco quickly became interested in his shoes. “Sorry, Sir.”

Harry chuckled at that. “Breathe, love.”

“You two are ridiculously adorable. I might vomit.”

“Thanks, beautiful. How has your night been?”

“Oh, you know, supplicants and hot messes everywhere. I have my eyes set on my own pretty blond for the evening, though,” she added, with a wink at Draco. “Since you so rudely won’t share yours, of course.”

“I told you, I’m being selfish tonight.” 

“Understandably so. Are you heading home? Need me to call you a taxi?”

“Yeah, we’re heading out, but no need for a taxi. Thank you, though. You host an amazing party as always, Ma’am.” He gently squeezed Draco’s hand.

“Thank you, Ma’am. You were very welcoming,” he said.

“Thank you for joining us, Draco. You were a delight to watch. Get home safe, both of you.”

“Will do.”

Half an hour later, they were walking up the main staircase on their way to Harry’s rooms.

“Can you imagine rolling in to the castle after a party at, what, 1:00 in the morning, but as students?” Draco asked.

“Between the secret passages and my cloak, I never got caught,” Harry said with a laugh.

Draco smacked him on the arm. “No need to be so cocky about it!”

“Did you have a good evening, Professors?” 

They both leapt half a foot in the air at the sound of McGonagall’s voice. 

“Good evening, Minerva,” Harry said. “Sorry if we were being too loud.”

“Oh, nonsense. You’re fine. Sorry to have startled you both.”

“What’s kept you up this late?” Draco asked.

They watched with a small amount of horror as a blush crept its way up her cheeks. “Oh, nothing much. I saw you both coming up from Hogsmead, but you were too far ahead of me or I would have called after you so we could walk together.”

Their small talk continued until they were about to split ways, each heading to their respective rooms, when McGonagall spoke again.

“Oh, and boys? Try to only spend nights together on the weekends once term starts up. I know I can’t stop you, but I’d rather the heads of houses were in their designated rooms in the event of an emergency during the week. Sleep well!” 

They stared at her retreating form until she turned a corner, then dissolved into giggles.  
_______________________

When they finally made it to Harry’s rooms, Harry let Draco in first. Once the door was closed and locked, Draco pushed Harry against it. 

“I’ve been thinking…” he said, biting his lip.

“Well, that’s a dangerous thing.”

Draco hummed in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips. “See, I haven’t been able to stop picturing me on my knees sucking your cock.”

Harry let the statement hang in the air for a second, felt himself growing hard almost instantly. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Ever since we got to the party. Hell, ever since last night, if I’m honest. Kneeling for you like that. I was sure you were going to ask me to suck you off then.”

“Is there something you’d like to _ask_ me for, Draco?” Harry watched as a look of frustration briefly crossed Draco’s face. “Honesty, kink. Remember? Use your words, darling.” 

He felt Draco’s hand clench his shirt briefly, watched as his eyes fluttered closed and his gaze dropped to the ground, before finally he spoke. 

“May I please suck your cock, Sir?”

Harry smiled. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Harry asked and planted a kiss on Draco’s lips. “Yes, you may. Get on your knees.”

Draco slid to the floor, the slight tremble of his body making the move less graceful than Harry knows he would have liked, but Gods…

“You really are incredible, Draco.”

“I haven’t even started yet.”

“Then shouldn’t your mouth be busy with something else besides pithy comebacks?”

With a smile that made Harry’s cock jump, Draco went back to his task, undoing Harry’s belt and zipper, tugging his jeans and pants down just enough for his cock to bob out, hard and already leaking. 

He let Draco do his own thing for a few minutes, licking and sucking, taking him almost all the way down the root of his cock. Somewhere along the way, he wove his hand into Draco’s hair again. When he felt like he was getting close, he applied more pressure to Draco’s hair and pulled him off so just the very tip of Harry’s cock was resting against his lips. 

“I want to fuck your face. Think you can take it?” The moan should have been answer enough, but Harry decided to push further. “I want to hear you say it. Ask me to fuck your mouth, Draco.”

Draco licked his swollen, spit covered lips. “Please… Please fuck my mouth, Sir. I-I want you to use me as you see fit, cum down my throat. Please, Sir…”

Harry’s smile was the only warning Draco had before he thrust his hips forward. He didn’t give any adjustment time, just set a brutal pace, one hand still tangled in the blond hair, the other wrapped around the front of Draco’s neck. He could feel himself moving inside Draco, feel the gags and the ragged breaths. 

The first tear that rolled down Draco’s cheek was what pushed Harry over the edge.

“I’m going to cum,” he said, just a few seconds of warning for Draco to decide to pull back or not. He simply moaned louder. “Fuck,” Harry breathed, threw his head back against the door, and with one final push, came down Draco’s throat. 

He relaxed his grip on Draco’s hair, choosing instead to run his fingers softly through it, then pulled out of his mouth slowly. He groaned when Draco’s tongue darted out to lick his lips before resting his head against Harry’s thigh. He was quite obviously hard again, his hips were even making small aborted thrusting movements. It was enough to make Harry’s cock twitch again.

“Bedroom,” Harry said, when he got his voice back. “I want you in my bed.”

He tucked himself back into his pants as Draco stood. Harry took his hand and pulled him close to kiss him. “Okay?”

“More than. Please…”

Harry nodded and lead them to his room. He stripped Draco of his shirt while they both kicked their shoes off. Soon (but not nearly soon enough), Draco was completely naked, Harry in just his jeans, fly still open, and with a move that surprised a small squeak out of him, Harry picked Draco up. The blond’s legs wrapped around Harry’s waist instinctually, and Draco had no time to consider how surprising/demeaning/sexy the scenario was before his back hit the mattress. He was deliciously sore from the beating he had taken.

Harry’s kisses turned heated again, trailing across Draco’s face, down his neck, across his chest. The stubble burn dragging against his sensitive skin was almost too much, and he whimpered. 

“Gods, so good…” Harry whispered as me moved his mouth lower. He licked at the slit of Draco’s cock, chuckling darkly as his hips thrust up. “Now, now, none of that.” 

He proceeded to tease with his fingers and mouth, trailing a path up and down Draco’s cock and over his balls. 

“Turn over for me, please,” he asked, and loved the haste with which Draco complied. He repeated the trail of kisses, starting up at the neck and working his way back down, pulling Draco’s hips up until he was resting on his elbows and knees. He continued moving his mouth lower, registered the hitch in Draco’s breath as he realized that Harry’s goal was.

“Harry, I… I don’t…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

He waited, knowing his breath was ghosting over the sensitive skin of Draco’s hole, waited until Draco was ready.

“I’ve never done this before, but I don’t want you to stop. Please, Sir.”

That was all the encouragement Harry needed before he licked a single stripe across Draco’s hole. He worked over it with open mouthed kisses and broad tongue swipes, licking and sucking around the rim of the hole before finally, finally, feeling Draco relax enough for Harry to lick into him. 

“Oh, Gods…” he heard from above him, and could only smile.

It didn’t take long before Draco’s hips started thrusting on their own, his cock trying to seek some sort of relief, and Harry brought his hand between Draco’s legs to give him something to rut against. The sound of relief jolted through Harry. 

He pulled away only briefly to say, “You can come when you want, Draco, whenever you’re ready.” Then he went right back to his goal of ripping Draco apart. 

It was a slower build, Harry could tell, but he felt when Draco’s thrusts got more erratic, felt his hole start fluttering around his tongue, and then Draco was practically screaming into the pillows when his orgasm ripped through him. Harry stroked and licked him through it, and only pulled away when Draco’s arms gave out and he lowered himself to the bed. Harry’s hands were already pulling down his pants, grabbing his cock. Four strokes later and he watched as his own cum splatters across the flushed and bruised skin of Draco’s back. 

It was enough to make him wish he was a teenager again. 

Instead, he lowered himself next to Draco on the bed, tentatively stroking a hand over his hair. 

“Mmm,” Draco hummed and pushed his head into Harry’s hand.

“Feeling good?” Harry asked after a minute.

“Yes, thank you. Just… Sticky.”

“Want a cleaning charm?”

“That would require you moving to get your wand.”

Harry laughed, then performed a wandless cleaning charm that left Draco momentarily speechless.

“You’re such a show off.”

“You love it, though.”

“True…” Draco said around a yawn. 

After quick trips to the bathroom, arguing about who was sleeping on which side of the bed, and a debate over pillow allotments, they settled down to sleep.  
_________________________

Harry woke far earlier than he should have given the activities of the night before. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, though you couldn’t really tell given the cloud coverage. But neither the steady, freezing rain nor the early hour bothered him much because when he looked next to him, he found the sprawled out, sleeping form of one Draco Malfoy.

Harry could still see the remnants of their adventures. There was a smattering of bruises along Draco’s upper back, a rather lovely bite mark on his shoulder, the telltale redness of stubble burn. 

Harry could only hope that the happy feelings about the night before were mutual.

With that sobering thought, Harry carefully made his way out of bed and into a pair of pyjamas and an old t-shirt before heading out to his sitting room and summoning one of the school’s many house elves with coffee. He curled up with a stack of papers that needed to be graded and got to work.

Just as he hit the last of the papers, he heard the door to his bedroom creak open.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Harry said in greeting.

“Good morning,” Draco replied. Harry tried not to be so pleased by the gravelly tone of his voice and the way he gently lowered himself onto the other end of the couch from. “How long have you been awake?”

“A couple hours. Woke up just after the sun rose.”

“Nightmares?”

“No, no. Just couldn’t sleep. You seemed to be out, though?”

“I was. I crashed hard. Can’t imagine why.”

Harry laughed openly at that. “No idea, huh?” Draco threw a pillow at him in response. “Fine, fine. Would you like some breakfast? I can call one of the house elves and get us some food. We crashed before I could think of it last night.”

“That would be fantastic.”

A few minutes later, a house elf named Marta was laying out a spread of breakfast foods on the table, along with a pot of coffee and a carafe of orange juice. They ate in a comfortable silence, passing food, stealing bites from each others’ plates. 

“So… Do you want to talk about last night?” Draco asked.

“I think we should, don’t you? Make sure we’re on the same page.”

Draco nodded. “I had a fantastic time, Harry. You, ah, you were great. I felt safe. You took care of me afterward. The party was great. Back here was…” he paused. “Gods.”

“Good,” Harry replied with a chuckle. “I’m happy to hear that. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. You were amazing, better than my dreams, and that’s not even me just being ridiculous. I had intended on being a bit less rough with you, just as we were feeling things out-.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. I feel… refreshed. Like my system has been reset. It had been way too long since I’ve let myself let go like that, and only a really hard scene can send me to that sort of headspace.”

“So, are you willing to give this a go? Give us a go? And, before you answer that, I should be honest and say that I don’t just want a power exchange relationship. I don’t just want the kink. I’m interested in dinners and dates and vanilla sex and hand holding and falling asleep next to you as often as possible. I want every messy detail of a relationship with you, if you’ll have me.”

It felt like 10 years before Draco finally responded, with the barest hint of a smile.

“Are you going to be this bloody sappy the entire time, Potter?”

“Obviously.”

“Good.”

They didn’t need any more words after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last thing I have to post is the epilogue. It's all written up, just needs to be formatted and gone over one more time. Expect it tomorrow night!


	5. Epilogue

_Three Years Later_  
It was New Year’s Eve, and Harry was running late for his dinner with Draco. He had taken on a bit of a consulting role for the Auror Corps, and was caught up in a case file for far longer than he should have been, especially on a night as important as this one. 

Or at least, that’s what he would tell Draco. The truth was that he was setting up a surprise for the other man, one that required him to be out of the way for just a little while, one that he hoped would make up for the delay.

They had made reservations for two in Diagon Alley, no longer afraid of stepping out into public view together. The first few months of their relationship, they kept things between the two of them (and McGonagall, of course), until it was obvious to the both of them that it wasn’t going to end any time soon. They let their guard down just long enough to allow some students see them holding hands, and naturally, the entire world knew by the following day. 

There were weeks of stories and interviews, a lot of hate mail but even more words of encouragement. They released a short public statement, saying that their relationship was new, but that they were happy, and that neither Draco’s status as an ex-Death Eater nor Harry’s as the defeater of Voldemort had anything to do with it. They were simply former classmates and current colleagues who went through the war together and found understanding in one another and that they’d quite like their privacy, thank you very much.

It took a year before the stories died down, and then they were able to venture into Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley together without being followed by reporters. Harry still kept an eye out for little, jewel-green beetles, but mostly, they were able to relax.

Which was why he planted a thorough kiss on Draco’s lips when he saw him. 

“You look stunning tonight, love,” Harry said, and it was the truth. The deep blue dress Muggle cut tuxedo brought a light to Draco’s eyes, their grey reflected in the stormy hues of his shirt. “Truly beautiful.”

“Don’t think your sweet words will get me to forget that you were late.”

“It was only 10 minutes!”

“You’ll have to make it up to me later,” Draco said, his pout turning into a wicked smirk.

“Oh, I think I can do that.”

_Gods, I hope I can. I hope I don’t fuck this up. After all this time, I’m still nervous!_

They had drinks, a full dinner, dessert, and lots and lots of laughter. By 10:00, they set out to walk the streets, enjoying the other revelers out celebrating the impending new year, accepting hugs from people they recognize and small chat from people who only know their faces.

Just after 11:00, they apparate straight to the top step of 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry had been reluctant to give up the house, and Draco had fallen in love with the dark charm and history in the walls. It had long since been renovated since the early days of the Order of the Phoenix 2- it was lighter now, the wall paper updated, the dust and mildew and lingering negativity gone. Even the portrait of old Mrs. Black had been taken down.

Now, it was their home away from Hogwarts. 

Harry guided them up the steps to their room. The soft glow of the candles could be seen through the open door, and Draco turned a questioning look to him. 

“What’s this?”

“The real reason I was late,” Harry replied with a kiss.

Whatever Draco was about to say was cut off when they entered the room. Candles covered every surface, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow. A bottle of champagne, the proper French kind Draco told Harry he loved even if Harry himself couldn’t tell the difference, was chilling in a bucket of ice next to a vase filled with a spray of wildflowers. Harry had asked Neville for a few of his precious cuttings from his greenhouse, and upon hearing the reason why he wanted them, had sent him more than he had expected. The soft look on Draco’s face spoke volumes. He’d have to send Neville a gift in thanks. 

Then Draco’s eyes landed on the square box that rested in the center of the bed. 

“What-?”

“Can you take your jacket and shirt off for me, Draco?” The shift in Harry’s tone was subtle, but enough for Draco’s eyes to go wide, then his body to go almost boneless.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you,” Harry said as he watched the other man strip. The jacket was hung up, the shirt folded neatly, then Draco was in front of him again. “So, so beautiful.”

And he was, truly. The last three years had seen some of Draco’s angles soften. Less drinking (Harry quit smoking in exchange), Harry constantly nagging him to eat better and sleep more, they had even taken to going on morning runs together. Draco had filled out and looked healthier than he ever had. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. Now… I know you saw the box on the bed. I have a question to ask you, one that we’ve talked about in passing before, but never like this. I want you to think of your answer before responding. Whatever the answer is, I will love you as much as I do in this very moment, okay? I need you to remember that.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry nodded and retrieved the box from the bed. It had taken him ages to find the right piece, to find the right craftsman willing to work with him, but finally…

He opened the lid of the box to reveal the slim, black metal collar that rested there. Unlike the simple chain that Draco had worn at all times since Harry had presented him with it 6 months into their relationship, this one had no visible clasp on it, no way for Draco to remove it himself.

“It’s a permanent collar. Once it’s put on, there are spells embedded that make the collar disappear but it leaves a mark, a tattoo of sorts, of a thin black band in its place. It will feel just like getting a regular tattoo, from what I’m told, meaning it will sting as it happens but only for a few moments. I would be the only one able to remove it, and once it’s removed… It can’t be put back on. It’s a one time use item that will last forever… so long as you want it to.” 

He let the information hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “You see why I want you to think about this, Draco. Once it’s removed, I will never put it back on you. I will never _be able_ to put it back on you. I want you to be absolutely sure this is something you want before accepting.”

The silence stretched between them for almost a full minute before Draco, with every ounce of grace Harry had ever admired him having, slowly sank to his knees. “I accept, Sir.”

Harry knew not to ask if he was sure, they had had plenty of conversations about that early on in their time together, rather just let the feeling that swelled up in his chest blossom from cautious hope to riotous joy.

“Thank you, Draco.”

Harry set the box on the table next to him and reached out to remove the chain Draco wore. He looked so strange without it, without that symbol of possession on him. He looked more naked than Harry had ever seen, and he set out to remedy that. 

As soon as the collar closed around Draco’s neck, it began to glow faintly. Draco sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing, and in a moment the physical collar had faded, replaced by a thin black line that kissed the tops of his collar bones and wrapped around his neck. 

His eyes opened slowly, and when Harry saw tears there, he almost panicked. 

“I’m sorry, Draco, so sorry. I was told it wouldn’t hurt-.”

“No, Sir. No. It didn’t. Weird, of course, but not painful. I…” his gaze dropped to the floor, and Harry watched as a teardrop splashed off his folded hands. “Thank you, Sir.”

Harry cupped Draco’s face in his hand and turned it so he was looking up at him. He brushed the tears away gently, knowing his own eyes were starting to well up. “I’m not the one who should be receiving thanks here, Draco. Your submission is a gift, one that I work to always be worthy of. I love you, with all my heart.”

“I love you too, Sir.”

Harry pulled him into a hug, Draco’s face buried in his shirt, arms wrapped around his waist. They stayed like that for ages, Harry stroking the back of Draco’s neck, along the collar line, until Draco pulled back.

“Better, love?”

“Fantastic, Sir.”

“Good. Then you can stand up and finish stripping, then get me out of these clothes as well.”

It didn’t take long before they were both naked on the bed, Draco on his back while Harry had three fingers buried in his arse, fucking him open while his other hand was wrapped just tightly enough around his throat that Draco’s pleas were coming out with a wheeze at the end. His torso was already covered with little love bites and remnants of bruises from the scene they had done on their anniversary just a few days prior. Harry poked and prodded them until Draco was a whimpering mess below him, literally begging to be fucked. 

And how could Harry refuse when _his_ Draco asked so nicely?

He fucked into him hard, setting a brutal pace for them both, smiling wickedly before flipping them over so Draco was straddling his hips. It wasn’t a position they used often, but it was one that Harry always loved. The long, flushed lines of Draco above him, hips rocking, fucking himself on Harry’s cock. It wasn’t purely self-serving tonight, though. They had a mirror hanging above their headboard, one that would allow Draco to see his new collar for the first time.

“Ride me, and look at yourself while you do it.”

Draco’s eyes flew open and looked at Harry first as realization dawned, before he slowly looked up at his reflection and _moaned._

Harry’s hands came up and wrapped around Draco’s hips, guiding them into a rhythm while the other man’s hand traced the line around his neck. 

“Oh, Gods… It’s perfect, Sir…”

“Good,” Harry said, and sped up their movements. “Everyone will be able to see it if you aren’t careful, but I don’t care. I don’t want you to be careful. I love the idea of you walking down Diagon Alley, my mark on display for all to see. Most wouldn’t know what it meant of course. Most would have no idea. But some… Some would. They would see it and know that you were mine. That you belong to me. Would you like that, Draco? Would you like everyone to know who you belong to? Would you like everyone to know that you beg me to fuck you, to fill you with my come? That you beg to be able to suck my cock and that you carry my bruises under those posh fucking robes of yours? Want people to know what a filthy fucking slut you are for me? Hm?”

“Gods… Yes. Yes, Sir… Mark me, use me, Gods. I’m yours, I’m yours… Fuck!”

Harry wrapped one hand around Draco’s cock, pumping it in time with his hips. Draco’s eyes were still fixed on his reflection in the mirror, his flush growing deeper. Harry surged up so they were chest to chest, and held Draco in place while he fucked up into him.

“I’m… I’m close, Sir. Please, please may I come?”

“Yes, yes, come for me,” Harry said, and bit down hard at the junction where Draco’s neck met his shoulder. 

Draco’s entire body tensed, his arse contracting, milking Harry as Draco choked out his release. Harry thrust once, twice, three more times before spilling himself inside Draco and finally releasing the skin from his teeth. 

Harry gently lowered them both back down to the bed, his arms still wrapped tight around Draco, his cock softening where it still rested inside of him. 

Fireworks and the sounds of bells exploded outside their window, the flashes of light outshining even the few stuttering candles that still remained. 

Harry tilted Draco’s head up to kiss him on the lips. “Happy New Year, my love.”

“Happy New Year, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course it was a collaring, y'all. This story was practically begging for it! *ba dum tss*
> 
> Hoo, boy! I was not expecting this much love this fast (or at all) on this ridiculous project. It's the first thing I've written in so long, and I'm happy that it has been well received so far. Thank you everyone who has stuck with it, left comments, had discussions with me... I love all of you. 
> 
> There will most likely be more in this verse. I already have a couple of plot bunnies floating around in my head, and we'll see where they lead.
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr if you'd like! [xstarxchaserx](http://xstarxchaserx.tumblr.com)


End file.
